Seaside Moors Momma's in the beauty parlor, Daddy's in the baseball pool.

fury storms to him in corporeal form; hackles bristled and yellow gaze burning thousand suns. polar gaze meets hers own calmly, having expected rage. usurping was never going to have gone over smoothly. seas were not always smooth; they were rough and choppy. merciless. what kind of leader doesn’t even acquaint himself with his newest recruits? whiskey steeped in coiling smoke rasps from scarred throat. though initial challenge was driven by instinct and what he hopes to secure for himself in his future. family. stability.

the fact that aningan was only seen for the first time during the challenge; nothing more than a phantom with a name who was supposed to be the alpha was a justification wintersbane holds to in the herenow.

expecting anyone else to agree, when he’s usurped their phantom king, was foolish.

you have every right to be mad at me, wintersbane allows. i won’t deny you your anger. but he regrets nothing. too much life lived in regret was no life at all. he stands at the precipice of the eye; a lighthouse seeking to guide the way. he will have to work thrice as hard to prove himself especially as a leader, especially now. the hale tundrian, however, has never backed down from a challenge.

despite what you or anyone else may think, i do not seek to destroy rusalka.